


win, hold and save

by gericault



Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Arizona Diamondbacks, Feelings, Light Dom/sub, Los Angeles Dodgers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sex Bet, Zoloft problems, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-02 12:03:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10944111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gericault/pseuds/gericault
Summary: Zack stirs lazily, as if he's been asleep for hours. "I lost, but I still won," he says, with a little giggle. "Cool."





	win, hold and save

**Author's Note:**

> [THEIR](http://www.azcentral.com/story/sports/mlb/diamondbacks/2017/04/13/zack-greinke-eager-firsthand-look-clayton-kershaw/100441262/) [LOVE](http://68.media.tumblr.com/201a532359543cbacae3d444c6b30001/tumblr_oogew2UlCs1qgsza6o2_540.gif) [STILL](http://claytcnkershaw.tumblr.com/post/159598670197/clayton-kershaw-comments-on-facing-former-teammate) [LIVES](https://twitter.com/candytkxkd/status/854183132622340096)
> 
> LET'S CELEBRATE WITH FILTH 
> 
> OBVIOUSLY

"That's what you want?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"I've given it a lot of thought, Zack."

"You don't... want me to blow you?"

"Well--I mean--yeah. Totally. If you're into it. But not because I won."

\--

Zack smells like shower gel and shampoo and antiperspirant and aftershave, a cocktail of astringent drugstore scents that Clayton can't get enough of. He's so scrubbed and fresh and _new,_ always, even though it's been four years since they met, and it's still so wonderful how Clayton can dig his fingers into the soft damp untanned skin of Zack's ass and leave pink marks behind.

"You've been wearing your pants tighter," Clayton says, and Zack's dimples show as he counters, "Your imagination." Clayton grins and squeezes Zack's ass again, hard enough to make him squeak and wriggle, and then guides him down onto the couch, Zack pliant and letting himself be arranged the way Clayton wants him.

The way Clayton wants him is kneeling on the cushions with his hands braced on the back of the couch, and before Clayton gets down on the floor he has to take a minute to run the heel of his hand down Zack's spine, the arch of it getting even more pronounced as Clayton's palm presses into the small of Zack's back. He really doesn't mean to be a jerk about this but when he reaches between Zack's legs for a quick light grope of his balls and shaft Zack draws in a breath and says, a little hoarsely, "Kersh, eat me out if you're gonna, c'mon--"

"Hey, don't rush me," Clayton says with a low chuckle, but there's no weight to the words because he can't hold himself back, anyway; not with Zack looking like this, on display for him.

Just the soft flutter of Clayton's breath on his skin makes Zack shiver a little, and when Clayton's tongue touches him he gasps, one of Clayton's favorite sounds in the world (Zack's gasp and Zack's laugh and the punched-out noise Zack makes when he fires off his fastball). He tastes very clean and very good and Clayton doesn't tease him nearly as much as he meant to, just licks and licks and licks till Zack's arching and rocking back for more.

One of the best things about sex with Zack, although initially it was the most intimidating, is that absolutely nothing he says is varnished or exaggerated to stroke Clayton's ego; so when Zack says breathily, "Fuck, feels so good, your mouth, Kersh, God," he knows he's making Zack feel exactly that good and it gets Clayton harder faster than anything else can. He reaches between Zack's legs again, fingertips running over the tip of Zack's cock to find out how wet he is there already, and Zack practically jumps, one fist hitting the back of the couch. _"Fuck,_ fuck, more of, I want--can I have more of that--"

Clayton smirks, giving a quick nip to the end of Zack's tailbone. "Oh, no. No way am I done yet."

He stands up, wraps arms around Zack's waist and pulls him up too, and walks him backwards to the bed, Zack stepping on his feet, nearly tripping both of them and laughing. (Zack's better at putting a loss behind him than Clayton is; Clayton broods, snaps at sportswriters, goes quiet in the locker room for hours or days. Zack does his postgame interview seriously and dutifully like he always does, then goes back to work, solving the next puzzle. If one or more of his pitches got hit hard, that's just new information to process. His mood stays even. Once when Clayton complimented him on that stability, Zack said, "Um, it's probably just the meds.")

When they reach the bed Clayton tumbles them both down, then quickly rolls Zack onto his belly, tucking his hands into the grooves of Zack's hips and lifting till Zack's back is arched again, thighs spread and his ass elevated enough that just the tip of his dick is touching the bedspread. Clayton gives that perfect ass a light, admiring slap and gets a dimpled grin in response before he licks up from Zack's taint to his hole again and Zack whines and squirms in his hands.

There were people booing last night; not everybody, but enough for Clayton to hear, and he knows it doesn't matter to Zack but it matters to him--the first time Zack stepped into the box that sound from the stands made him want to drop his glove, walk off the mound and cross that sixty plus six and grab Zack and hold him, right there at the plate. Show everyone that Clayton Kershaw was more than just a Dodger, and Zack was more than just a Diamondback, and still deserved, would always deserve, to be adored.

Too many reasons he couldn't do that. But it's--mostly all right, now that he can point his tongue and tease around the circle of Zack's hole and make Zack's fingers grasp at a pillow and the arches of his feet flex. Zack's pushing downward, trying to grind into the mattress but Clayton's hands are tight in the creases of his hips and thighs, not letting him have that friction. He groans a drawn-out _"Kerrrrsh"_ but Clayton just gently shushes him and laps at his ass till a drop of spit runs down his perineum, making Zack squirm and half-giggle.

The long breath Zack lets out sounds almost relieved when Clayton pulls back, sitting up on his heels and stroking Zack's hole lightly with the pad of his thumb. "If you won, what were you gonna do with me?"

"Mmm. Dunno," Zack says softly, curving his body a little so he can look at Clayton, each syllable stretched out like he's been hypnotized. "Hadn't quite decided, uh... Maybe tie you to the bed, ride you for a while..." His eyes, half-open, flutter shut and he arches under Clayton's hand. "Fuckin'... cock always feels so good, Kersh..."

Clayton's got his cock in his hand, stroking it lazily--not that he needs to, he could never be anything _but_ hard with Zack laid out for him like this. "You like my tongue, too?" he asks, wanting to hear it again, and Zack nods with a little moan. "Think I could make you come with it?"

Zack's eyes open. After a pause, he says, matter-of-factly, "Probably not."

That's the other side of the meds, which Clayton tends to forget about when he hasn't touched Zack in a while--it takes time and effort to get him off. He needs to get fucked deep, a lot of the time, and a strong hand on his cock, and although it's technically a side benefit for Clayton that Zack can stay hard for however long Clayton wants his dick, it kills him to hear Zack's bitten-back groan of frustration when he wants to come in Clayton's ass and can't.

Clayton brushes a finger up the rigid shaft of Zack's cock and says softly, "Don't worry. I got you." Then he smiles, flopping down on his back on the bed. "Sit on my face for a while, make me happy?"

"You're the boss tonight," Zack says, dimples out in full force.

Now with Zack straddling him Clayton starts to firm up the pressure of his tongue, and when he breaches Zack's hole with it and dips just a little inside Zack sinks to his elbows, his body tensing and shuddering, cock leaking onto Clayton's chest. Then, suddenly, Clayton's hips jump and he groans loudly into Zack's cleft because Zack's got a hand around Clayton's dick and he's lifting it to his lips, warm breath and tongue dancing around the head, wetting it till it's sloppy with spit and he can slide it into his mouth. Oh, it feels like forever since Clayton's had this, Zack's better at it than he even remembered, taking him hot and deep and so good. "Oh _frick,"_ Clayton says, leaning his head back so Zack can hear him, "yeah, like that--frickin'--just like that--"

He's really not interested in giving Zack a break, though, not when Clayton knows what kind of noises he can get out of him by working a finger into his slippery-wet hole, which is what he's doing now, in a series of short pushes. And Zack's giving him all the sounds Clayton could want, a litany of muffled whines and moans, till Clayton's hips jerk up, thrusting into Zack's mouth, and he realizes how close he is to coming. "Wait wait wait," he says in a rush, grasping Zack's thighs to nudge him over, and Zack gets it--they're a good team--and rolls obligingly onto his back, legs spread so Clayton can fit.

"You gonna fuck me?" Zack says, soft and sweet and breathless, and Clayton kisses his calf and thinks about the reporters in the clubhouse helpfully reminding him that _his friend_ just gave up five runs and asking him why he thought that might be, like Clayton knew and was going to _fucking tell them,_ and he wishes for just a second that baseball would go away. Not forever. Just--long enough for them to have every kind of sex they could think of, and play ping-pong, and basketball, and Mario Kart, and whatever byzantine RPG Zack's into these days, and buy presents for each other's kids, and make out lazily with a movie on, and go to sleep in the same bed and complain over breakfast about elbows and cold feet and snoring.

He blinks the slight ache of those thoughts away and says, "Later, if you want. I got a game plan here." Zack pouts a little, until Clayton gives his nipples a hard pinch and he spasms all over like he's gotten an electric shock. By the time Clayton finally lets up Zack's shivering and looking up at him with big wide eyes and when Clayton folds his thighs back against his chest and says, "Stay," he bites his lip and nods.

"Good boy," Clayton says, voice low, and he could practically come just from the look on Zack's face.

The swear jar rules are long gone; Clayton can't not curse as he rubs his dick along the pink slick warm crack of Zack's ass, getting a little pleading sound back every time the head slides across Zack's hole. _"Fuck_ \--want--want me to come, baby?" A moan and another nod, frantic. "All over you?"

Zack says, "Please," and that's the spark, Clayton grabs his cock and bends Zack's thighs back even further with his other hand and jerks off rough and fast until he's coming in long streaks into Zack's cleft.

He'd come again if he could when Zack reaches down, finds a few drops of Clayton's come along the shaft of his dick and brings his fingers back to his mouth to suck. Thank God, Clayton thinks, looking at him, there's only three days between this series and the one they'll play in Phoenix. There were month-long stretches of last season when they got nothing of each other but texts and phone calls and Skype and Clayton thought he might lose his mind.

"So--" Zack says, and Clayton can hear him trying to be insouciant but the desperation in his voice overwhelms everything else, "are you gonna--keep me waiting forever--" He takes a deep ragged breath. "Clayton, please--"

"I got you," Clayton says in a rush, "I'll take care of you, don't worry, I got you," and he drags his thumb through the come he left between Zack's legs and brings all that slickness to his hole so he can work it deep inside with his fingers, every stray drop, and Zack's moan is half relieved and half tormented and the panting rise and fall of his chest is almost hypnotic. "Is that good, wanna give you what you need, you're so good, Zack--"

Zack knots a fist in the sheets and says, _"Fuck,_ more," and Clayton slides three and then four fingers into him, fucking into him hard, taking Zack's cock in his other hand and saying, "Show me how you need it, baby," and Zack covers Clayton's hand with his own and moves it fast and tight and rough till he's almost sobbing--

The real and only upside to the Zoloft problem is that, because it takes forever for Zack to get off, when he finally _does_ it rips through him like a bolt of lightning. A high torn sound, and another, and another, until for an instant he goes dead silent, taut all over, too gone to breathe; and then he finally breaks, sagging to the bed, come painting his chest and belly and arched throat. 

It's--Clayton's not sure how long before he slips his fingers carefully out of Zack's body and makes his way to the bathroom with shaky legs to wash up. When he comes back, his weight dipping the bed, Zack stirs lazily, as if he's been asleep for hours. "I lost, but I still won," he says, with a little giggle. "Cool."

\--

"Thanks," Zack says, combing his fingers through the sweaty curls of Clayton's hair.

"You're welcome," Clayton says, "but, uh, what for?"

"Well... you won the bet. You could've asked me to... I dunno, suck on your toes for an hour or something."

"Yuck."

"I mean--"

"I'm not into feet, Zack."

"I know, I'm saying--"

"Wait, did you think I was into feet?"

"No, shut up, what I'm saying is, you could've asked for something that would've been really boring for me, right? But instead I got... _the most_ rimjob. Hall of Fame rimjob. So... thanks."

"Well," Clayton says, "it's not like I was just... doing you a favor. Frickin' can't get enough of your butt, you oughtta know that by now."

"Kersh. You just had your tongue in it. You can say 'ass.' _Please_ say 'ass.'"

"Ass," Clayton says with a smirk, "as in, the jawbone of an. Happy?"

 _"Ass,_ as in, you are a pain in the."

"I miss you," Clayton says suddenly, bluntly, his bantering tone dropping away. Blue-green eyes meet his for a second, and then Zack curls himself up with his head against Clayton's chest, short disorderly hair tickling his chin.

"I'm sorry," Zack says. Clayton lays an arm over him.

"Don't want you to be sorry," he says and punctuates it with a quick squeeze. "I just miss you."

Zack says, quietly and sincerely, "I miss you too."

They're both still for a while, solemn, feeling each other breathe. And then Clayton lets out a small huff of a laugh, holds Zack tighter and says, "Well, doesn't matter. I got you back, you live here now. You're a Dodger again."

"What," Zack says, "why do _I_ have to leave my team? I like Phoenix. You come be a Dback."

"I thought we were friends, why do you want to blow up my ERA?"

"You'll get so much run support it won't matter. C'mon. I need somebody to distract Peralta so he quits bugging me."

"It wouldn't work. You're his man crush," Clayton says. And then, softer, uncertain, "Have you... with any of the guys on..."

"No," Zack says, and Clayton feels a surge of relief and possessive pride. Then Zack adds contemplatively, "Paul's nice. And really hot," and jealousy stabs him, just a little, even though he knows he has no right to it, and anyway if there's one guy on the Dbacks who's good enough for Zack, it's Paul Goldschmidt. "But," Zack says, "he's not... we don't have... he's not you."

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS SWEETMEL THANKS DEFINESTRANGE THANKS RISTONEE THANKS EPIGONE


End file.
